


Elegance

by VandaQ



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VandaQ/pseuds/VandaQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal is a ruthless player, regardless of the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elegance

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Might contain S03 spoilers! 
> 
> SEASON 3 IS HERE AND I SO HATE THIS SHOW 
> 
> Inspired from Will's words, here's this short thing. Also, I really liked Antony so just let's pretend he at least got a fuck from Hannibal before being killed, yes?

 

_"_ _Do you believe in God, Will?"_

_"Do you, doctor? I believe in anything that can be proved and God has proven himself to be arrogant and cruel enough."_

_"Do you think God is arrogant and cruel, then?"_

_"I just said so."_

_"Because he makes his children suffer, perhaps?"_

_"Of course not. But because he doesn't make anything to cease it. He's too... Elegant. His elegance is arrogant and cruel."_

_"..."_

_"Like yours."_

_"Do you say I am resembling God, Will?"_

_"Fortunately, no. But you like to play his game. But not as his 'child'. As his rival, Hannibal. You defy him by doing his work, in your style, with your own design. You lay down the chess table and place the pawns on their respective position, then, as an arbiter, you watch the game; without intervention; with elegance; just like Him."_

 

 

 *** * ***  

 

 

"What are you smiling at?"

Hannibal doesn't need to turn his gaze to sense the curiosity that plays in Dimmond's eyes or to feel how the man itches to touch him again, dirty him with his mundane admiration. He doesn't need to reply just for now; let the man enjoy his satisfaction a bit longer; the satisfaction of being fucked by him. But when Hannibal does turn his stare, Antony knows in those irises is hidden the secret of loss and hate and fear and the man next to him rules over them and over him.

"Someone told me once I like to play God's game."

"Well, don't we all do?"

Hannibal stares down then he moves closer, feeling Dimmond's breath colliding with his lips, fanning over his chin, strange and unfamiliar. He moves his hand to rest against the other's cheek, palm cradling a strong jaw, while whispering:

"Wrong. I do not play his game as you do. I play as his fearless rival."

The hand moves and the fingers snake around Antony's neck. The man doesn't resist too much; he just smiles in satisfaction; chokes a few times under the unsatiable gaze of the god that plays with him.

"With elegance," resonates again a whisper and dances upon Dimmond's lips. Hannibal feels warmth upon his fingertips; but not a pulse anymore. When he retreats from the bed, he smiles again, feeling arrogant and cruel, because _someone_ told him his _elegance_ is arrogant and cruel.

 


End file.
